


common ground

by kangeiko



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Monaco Grand Prix 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: Sebastian has some difficulties after Monaco 2017. But that's ok. Everyone does this. He has seen them. There is proof.





	common ground

It is absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely, not a problem. It's a, a peculiarity, an idiosyncrasy. It's special and charming and disarming and if anyone asks about it he can shrug and laugh a little and it's fine, fine, _fine_ , it's a cute anecdote for an interview and that's all. They never ask for long, because if he's laughing and shrugging and admitting to being a little peculiar, well. That's what a normal person would do, isn't it? 

Oh, he has worked this out carefully. He has read up on it, has watched a lot of films - just the once, always just the once if anyone is with him, and then purchased on DVD and no one can check how often it is after that - and he knows exactly what to do and what to say. He can do exactly what he is expected to do and, hey, hey it's just like the movies. Who would have thought. All he has to do is say what people expect him to say - and they helpfully have all that in all these films, like a guidebook - and they know that it's fine, because that's what the movies show. It's so _neat_.

So, no. No, he doesn't have a problem. He doesn't have a problem at all. He's a little peculiar, sure, but isn't everyone? He likes his own brand of cereal and he likes his own mug, but everyone does that. And as long as he leaves his own mug and his own cereal at home, all he has to do is have communal cereal, and use the communal mug. See? See? He’s fine. He can use communal things just fine. Just like everyone else. Look at him use communal cutlery like a pro. No hesitation at all. 

The only sticking points come when someone is in his space - when someone tries to use one of his things, or when he has his own things with him and someone else touches them - but that's his pen and he chewed on it, so he can't lend it because it's covered in germs. And he is absolutely going to finish his pastry. And no, no he won't let anyone else hold his phone but that is a thing he has in common with other people so no one questions it. He is absolutely able to just say, “let me send you the link so you can see,” and that is acceptable. Other people don't share their phones. He can say no. 

He's going to get that printed on a card so that he can point to it at opportune moments. That saying no to sharing is _acceptable_. 

“You know,” Christian says to him one day in between practices - one day when he is in red and Christian has no business to be talking to him at all, especially when he is in front of the Ferrari garage - “you might want to think about whether the race win is worth losing what you have.” He nods towards where Kimi is sitting a little to the side, face quiet, watching the team work. Kimi is always quiet. He is in the paddock and Kimi is always quiet because that is the way things are. Sebastian wins and Kimi is quiet. 

“Are you giving me advice?” He asks, and he's surprised, because it does not feel malicious. He is expecting malice. There is form there, he thinks. 

Christian shrugs. “I suppose. I'm just saying. Maybe you could think about a different approach.” His face is pink, maybe from the sun, maybe from something else. He will not meet Sebastian’s eyes. “You'll win eventually,” he says abruptly. “You'll get your fifth championship, I have no fucking doubt. But if you burn it all around you, you won't be any happier here than you were at Red Bull.”

Sebastian considers this in silence. “For sure, it would be good to win,” he says at last. He looks at Christian’s pink cheeks for a moment. “You didn't care if I was happy. Before.” He is fairly certain that this is correct. He would have known if Christian had cared. 

Christian sighs and he looks a little angry. “Just. Maybe talk it through with someone before you commit, ok? I don't know how Ferrari feels about it all, but - just think it through.” He hesitates another moment, and then turns away. His hand lingers on Sebastian's elbow as he goes, and his hand is the last part of him that pulls away. 

This is stupid. There is nothing to think through. 

Sometimes, sometimes it is more complicated. Sometimes he needs little bits of comfort and they are _fine_ , they are no different than what other people need. Lewis needs his music and Kimi needs his silence and Mark had needed to work out in even batches of whatever he was doing, forty, fifty, sixty, all perfectly fine. No one ever told them that they had to talk it through with anyone. No, Christian is… he may not be malicious, but he is misinformed. Speculating. Wrong. Trying to help and failing. 

It's not like Sebastian _can't_ do it. He absolutely can. He has absolutely used communal showers and communal towels and communal… whatever it is in the little dispensers, maybe shampoo, maybe just soap. It is green and smells revolting. But he has used it and it is proof, proof that what this is, is… optional. It is just his little peculiarity. 

And races, races are good. Races don't have a set outcome, they don't have a set order. He could finish the race in any position, or not finish it at all. He knows this. He knows he wants to win, and he will try his very best to win. The - the team thing is a little harder, sure. He hadn't had that for a while. Red Bull had not been a problem because he had won, and then the wins were his, and the team was his, and the strategy was his, and he didn't have to share. Ferrari is harder, because - well, he had thought it was the same, but the last race, somehow it wasn't… it wasn't… 

It was still his win, it absolutely was, but it also felt like the hotel bedsheets. Adequate. Communal. 

He was on the top step and Kimi’s mouth was turned down and he didn't, he didn't know how to make it _his_ win, after he had won. It seemed a little late to try. He held the trophy in his hands and thought about talking to Kimi about it, but what would he say? “Sorry I won?” 

"Maybe it shouldn't have been my win?"

Or - worst of all - "no, no, let's do it again, let's run the race again."

No, this was ridiculous. So he wanted to win. So what. _So what._ He is a driver. Every driver wantes that. And he is - he is - 

Sebastian is perfectly normal in every respect. 

This is not a problem. It's just focus. 

All he has to do, see, all he has to do, is win this next race, and it will be his win _properly_. It will be his, not maybe-his, not possibly-his, not technically-his. And then - he knows just the one won't be enough - ok, so he wins this year, fine, fine, and then _next_ year, he’ll take pole, he'll win the race, and that should, that should do it, it should - 

Someone is beside him, but he can't turn to look. Someone in red. “Hmmmm,” he says. 

“Sebastian,” the someone says, and he knows who it is, but if he acknowledges them, he has to turn around, and he's not quite ready yet. The messy race was last race, and he's back in the paddock off the back of that, and so his weekend is going to be wrong until this race is completed and he has a very clear yes/no on the win here. That's absolutely, it's just, it's, it’s, it’s -

He watches the team work and taps his fingertip against the top of his water bottle, once, twice. Three, four, five, six, ok he can just… this is perfectly fine, he can do this. People do this sometimes. They take a moment. They just pause. People do this. He's seen it. He's allowed. 

He stops after one hundred and twenty eight taps. He exhales. Turns. Kimi is standing beside him, waiting. 

“You done?” Kimi asks, quiet. He hadn't said anything about last weekend to Sebastian. Hasn't talked about it at all. Like it is gone, erased, not something they have to discuss. He must be angry, also because it is not his win, but it should have been. He must have felt how strange it was as well. 

Sebastian gets it. Can't be right, having that level of uncertainty over the winner. This race, this race will be different. Clear winner. One of them will do well, one of them not as well. And he will try his hardest to win, and Kimi gets that. He _gets_ that, no matter what Christian says. No matter what the press says. You can't run a race with a communal result, even if the community is two people. You can't _share_ it, that's not how it works. Team orders are - they're for other people. 

It's ok. Some teams can't handle them. Some drivers. Some people. 

Sebastian’s fingers ache. His fingernail had knocked against the metal of the water bottle with each tap and after a while it had started to hurt. After the thirty fourth knock. Then. But not too much. Not too much. Just a little ache. Anyone could have ignored it. He's sure other people have done the same. Other people. Everyone. “I'm hungry,” Sebastian says. 

Kimi nods, and leans into him as they turn and walk. His hand looks for Sebastian’s and holds it tight. 

*

fin


End file.
